


Life on a Chain

by bmnugent



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Family, Other, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmnugent/pseuds/bmnugent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus has never attempted to get her mother to take the bands off, has never inquired as to why she still wears them, and Clarke is appreciative because she knows it’s not easy… for either one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life on a Chain

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fluffy little thing. I like writing things. I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes! ALSO. Listen to Booty Wurk by T-Pain for the dancing bit. (It's my f*cking favorite thing everrrrrr)

Clarke remembers the first time Marcus Kane had walked into her home. He was shy, quiet, only talked to her mother when necessary, smiled awkwardly at times; but she couldn’t bring herself to complain about him to her mother. He was a welcome presence ever since her father had passed away. She knew he’d never be able to replace her father, but it was nice to have someone around the house to help with things, especially making her mother feel safe again.

But now, there’s a movie playing on their television in the living room. The three of them are sprawled out on the couches that are strategically placed in the spacious family room. Clarke is laying back on one by herself, her head propped up by the small decorative pillow. It’s a Friday night and all of her friends had bombarded her with texts and calls to go out with them, but she’s dressed for a night in with a pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt that belonged to her father.

She’s been engrossed in the movie thus far, but she grows uncomfortable with her position and stretches, pushing herself up from the cushions and catching a glimpse of her mother and Marcus only a few feet away from her on the other couch.

He’s sitting up with one of the decorative pillows that matches Clarke’s in his lap, Abby’s head resting on top of that. He’s got one arm protectively wrapped around her waist while the other on the armrest, that hand buried in her long brunette hair. They’re dressed the same as Clarke; Kane in his own pajama pants and a simple gray shirt while her mother has a pair of running shorts and a tank top. 

Clarke smiles to herself as she watches them from where she is, only her eyes peeking over the edge of her pillow to observe them. She takes in the way Marcus glances down at her mother every now and again, silently checking to see if she’s still awake, and how her mother snakes her own arm under Marcus’s to lace their fingers together, their joined hands resting on her hip. 

As the scenes on the television change, Clarke can see the gleam of light bounce off of metal from the wedding band that still rests around her mother’s neck and the one that’s lived on her finger for as long as Clarke can remember. Marcus has never attempted to get her mother to take the bands off, has never inquired as to why she still wears them, and Clarke is appreciative because she knows it’s not easy… for either one of them. 

She’d choose this moment, seeing her mother content and happy and loved, than go out with her friends any night.

—

He suggests a trip to somewhere that everyone can relax and have fun. He had meant for it to be just a small trip; him, Abby, and Clarke. But Clarke had argued that you “can’t have a family vacation without the rest of the family”. He had grinned at how she had called them a family, his joy not going lost on Abby. 

And a month later, the three of them along with the rest of Clarke’s friends, Jaha, and David, are running onto a white sand beach with blue water crashing onto the shore off in the distance. Clarke runs off with her friends, clothes flying as they advance towards the water, but she stops halfway there and turns to locate her mother. 

The four adults are setting up chairs, umbrellas, and beach towels. She can hear her mother complaining about using sun screen over the crashing water, and laughs to herself when she hears Marcus complain about how he ‘naturally tans’. 

It’s not long before her mother looks up and they lock eyes from across the beach. Abby nods off in the direction of the water and winks at her daughter. 

“Clarke! Come on,” Bellamy yells from her spot in the ocean water. Clarke pulls her shirt over her head and resumes running towards the water, her friends laughing, swimming, splashing.

The rest of the day disappears fast. It’s not long before sun starts to set off in the distance. There’s a row of beach towels that each one of her friend’s has claimed. Octavia and Lincoln are sitting up on theirs, playing with the sand. Bellamy is passed out with sunglasses still on his face with a beer in his hand. Raven is lifting various spots of her bikini to see how tan she’s grown over the course of the day.

No one is paying attention to the four adults sitting behind them… except Clarke. 

“Marcus, no. The water’s probably cold,” she pleads as he lifts her up from her sandy chair. She’s taken off her tank top and white shorts throughout the course of the day, so the only thing left is her black bikini. Marcus’s gray swim trunks hung low on his hips, his hair and beard a wild mess from the breeze of the salt water. 

He’s got one arm hooked under Abby’s knees and the other wrapped around the middle of her back. His steps are balanced and stable even under the shifting sand and with Abby in his arms. He’s at the water’s edge in no time and then taking quick steps into the warm ocean water. A few waves catch them off guard, but she can hear her mother laugh over them. 

She has to squint, sitting up so quickly, that sand flies everywhere. Her mother’s hands are clasped behind Kane’s neck as she hangs onto him for support. 

“What’s wrong,” Raven asks after noticing the change in Clarke’s demeanor.

The wedding band is missing from her mother’s left hand, but she can still make out the chain around her neck.

“Nothing,” Clarke exhales a breath she never knew she was holding, an indescribable fluttering in her stomach at the thought of her mother finally moving on. There’s a sad smile on her face now, as she remembers her father and trips to a beach much like this one with him. But all it takes is one glance at her mother who is now in chest deep water, clinging to Marcus Kane with her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, for Clarke to realize that they are a perfect fit for one another.

—

Octavia and Lincoln get married on a beautiful fall day. The wedding is rather extravagant thanks to Bellamy, who had jumped to give his sister whatever she had wanted.

Everyone is there. Indra, Raven, and Clarke are in matching floor-length dresses, even with protests from two of the three women. Lincoln’s own groomsmen are in matching suits and Bellamy is one of them as he walks his baby sister down the isle.

Clarke watches him from her spot at the end of the isle, lips pressed hard together as she tries not to cry at his pained expression. It’s the moment he’s been dreading all of his life; letting his little sister go. 

The ceremony is beautiful. There’s not a single dry face in the crowd, Abby and Marcus are no exception. Marcus had reached down to grasp Abby’s hand, squeezing softly to gently jab at her for getting emotional, but when he had seen the look on Octavia’s face as they were pronounced husband and wife, the emotions hit him hard. He had watched her grow from a little rebellious teenager into a beautiful, strong young woman. 

The reception follows soon after. People are drinking, dancing, hugging, and having fun. Octavia and Lincoln are inseparable throughout the night. Everyone watches as they share their first dance as husband and wife. Bellamy and Clarke are standing close to one another, arms touching as they sway together to the slow music. Abby and Kane are sitting at one of the many tables, a glass of wine in Abby’s hand and scotch in Kane’s. 

“I can only imagine what’s going through Bellamy’s head right now,” Abby speaks up after the song is over and people begin to invade the dance floor again. Marcus looks up at her. “Having to give away someone you love” she clarifies. His eyes slowly drift over to Clarke, who’s now in Bellamy’s arms, dancing. Abby follows his gaze and smiles. 

“Looks like we’ll find out soon enough,” he states, Abby’s eyes darting from her daughter back to the man next to her. She’s tearing up again at the thought of her and Marcus walking her daughter down the isle, handing her off to Bellamy; her little baby all grown up. “Okay, enough of that,” he teases her softly, standing from his chair and setting his empty liquor glass down on the table. He extends his hand and she takes it wordlessly, letting him pull her out onto the dance floor where Bellamy and Clarke are contently wrapped in each other’s arms. 

He twirls her around once, their fingers laced together gently, and she comes back into his chest. Her long brunette hair is curled and frames her face just as he’s come to love it. The elegant dress she’s wearing flows beautifully to the floor and compliments Kane’s suit perfectly. They fit together effortlessly and Clarke raises her head from Bellamy’s shoulder to watch her mother and Kane dance together. 

One of Kane’s hands is pressed low into Abby’s back while the other holds Abby’s hand preciously, like she’s made of glass. There’s not much room left between their bodies, but neither one of them notice. The chain that’s been around her mother’s neck for years and as long as Clarke can remember is no longer there, but it’s absence doesn’t anger Clarke. 

“Look,” Clarke whispers into Bellamy’s ear, getting him to turn his head and look over to where Abby and Kane are dancing. “She looks so happy.” Her voice cracks just a little and Bellamy pulls her closer, her head coming to rest on his chest and his chin propped up on the top of her head. 

—

The next time they’re all together again is the summer. It’s a sunny, hot day and they find themselves in the pool. Bellamy and Clarke are laying out on the padded lounge chairs while Abby sits on the edge of the pool, her legs stretched out in front of her so her perfectly manicured, tiny feet are resting atop Kane’s shoulders.

Kane’s hands run up and down Abby’s legs, earning him a fit of laughter and splashes from Abby. He pushes up from the side of the pool, coming out of the water and reaching for her hips. She screams as he manages to pull her off from the edge of the pool and into the water. Her legs wrap instantly around his waist and he’s able to stand effortlessly in this deep of water. 

She almost swears she can hear her mother say, “I love you”.

—

She watches from her spot at the kitchen island as her mother bounces back and forth from the multiple counters, chopping onions, browning meat in a skillet, measuring spices; trying to cook for the four of them. Bellamy is seated next to Clarke, two glasses of wine sitting in front of them. 

Clarke has paired her phone with the speakers that Monty installed last year, so there’s light, upbeat music floating around the house.

Marcus is leaning against the counter that houses the sink, his own glass of wine in his hand. He’s constantly asked her if she needs help, but she waves him off and manages to juggle the cooking by herself. It’s not until everything is in it’s own pot or skillet, slowly cooking, that she’s able to face her family and sip on her wine.

“Mom,” Clarke calls out, red in the face from the alcohol she’s been sipping on. “When’s the last time you went out,” she asks, her lips curling up into a grin that draws the attention of Marcus and Bellamy. 

“Clarke, you know better,” she jokes with her daughter, inhaling more wine. “We are too damn old to be going downtown with you youngsters,” she says into her wine glass.

“Could you just imagine her in one of the clubs,” Clarke turns to ask Bellamy, who holds his hands up in defense, not wanting to get dragged into this mother-daughter argument. “No, I’m serious! We’d probably have to fight to keep the hands off of her,” she says, jumping down from her high kitchen stool. 

“Agreed,” Marcus says, raising his wine glass to toast Clarke.

“She’s not as innocent as she seems. I’ve seen her dance a time or two,” Clarke says, turning the volume up on her phone so the music gets louder in the kitchen.

“Clarke!” Abby’s cheeks are flushed with color and she’s hiding her face in her hands as Clarke advances closer, her hands in the air as she dances her way towards her mother. She’s half embarrassed that her daughter has let her secret slip and half embarrassed that Marcus is about to see her dance like this. 

“Oh my God,” Bellamy says through his laughter as he watches his girlfriend roll her hips suggestively towards her mother. Marcus shakes his head, laughter escaping his lips as he sets his wine glass down and crosses his arms over his chest. In the past, he’s passed by the living room every now and again as the television is stuck on some music channel Clarke had been watching. He’s seen the way the kids ‘dance’ these days. 

It takes Clarke a few attempts, but her mother has finally given up and grabbed a hold of the edge of the counter, turning her backside to everyone and letting her hips bounce up and down in time with the music. 

Clarke whistles.

Bellamy cheers her on.

Kane’s eyes grow wide, not only at the way Abby’s hips are moving, but at the type of song Clarke has chosen. 

—

“Can I sit here?”

Clarke looks up from her spot on the back patio, the soft white lights pinned up around the yard cast a shadow behind him. She nods her head and he slowly comes to sit next to her, drawing his knees up to rest his elbows on them. Abby is somewhere in the house behind them, oblivious to their little meeting.

“I um… I had something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says slowly, wringing his hands together in front of him. Clarke knows he’s nervous, can tell by the way he’s taping one foot repeatedly against the wooden deck. “Your mother,” he says, finally. She nods her head as if she already knew what was coming. “She’s an amazing woman.”   


“She is,” Clarke agrees without missing a beat.

“And the past few years have been wonderful… some of the best in my life.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way.”

He’s quiet now, reflecting on Clarke’s words. He’s never been great with confessions. Words and feelings were tricky. So he decides to get on with it.

“I want to marry your mother, Clarke.”

There’s nothing to think about, no arguments to pick with him. He’s been the perfect companion for her all these years, has showed them nothing but loyalty and love. 

“I want you to marry her, too,” she confesses after a brief pause, and Marcus lets out a breath he never knew he was holding. His heart is beating wildly against his chest and he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Clarke, to promise her that he’ll keep the two of them safe. “That wasn’t so bad, was it,” she’s asking, joking with him as she pushes herself up from the patio steps. She extends a hand to help him up as well. 

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I couldn’t have denied you even if I hated you.” She’s nodding off into the direction of their house. “She loves you… a lot.”

—

She’s linked at the arm with her mother. She can feel the cool metal against her skin even on this cold, winter day. The two wedding bands, her mother’s and father’s, rest lightly above her heart. She can hear the way the metal clashes together with every heart beat as she finally takes in the sight of her mother in a wedding dress. 

Down the isle ahead of them, Marcus Kane is waiting with Bellamy Blake by his side as his best man, waiting for his future wife and step-daughter to reveal themselves.

“This is it,” Clarke whispers, lacing her fingers together with her mother’s. “You’re getting married… again,” she laughs, willing the tears to stay away.

“Yeah, but you actually get to witness this one.” Her daughter nods and begins to advance for the doors that’ll lead them out to their family and friends, but Abby is quick to pull her back. “I love you,” she stresses, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead tenderly. 

“I love you too, mom.” The two women pull away. Clarke reaches up with a shaky hand to brush the fallen pieces of hair away from her mother’s brown eyes and wipes away a single tear with the pad of her thumb. “Now… let’s go get you married.”


End file.
